The Slave of the new world




To my Dearest cuzn Ermma,

I am writing to you from a faraway place called America. It is very hot here, but not as hot as the warm summers of Barbados. I was put on a ship with many others. To my upmost regret I am slave of a man colored in white, I was told to call him masta and was stripped of own god given name So as I write to you now I am no longer Adome mo but I am now Damond, I must admit I quite like the name its strong but yet gentle in its own write, why this poor fellow was named dog poop. my masta is a strange man, always goin on about this Jesus fellow who I suppose died for him or something of the sort , due to the lightness of my skin I was put into the house to work as a child take careae , I cook, I clean , and I even pretend to be horsey now and then. But as I put on that smile for that child, in side I am cryn knowing that I may never see my home, my family, or feel the breeze of the winds of Barbados again. There aren’t a lot of good lookn African women here a lot of them are defiled by their slave masta and forced to bare children to them devils and see their own childen sold for I myself have never seen or looked at the under garments of white woman but the mastas wife has asked of me to. Her name is Anna Bell a beautiful name and even thaw I would never ask the lord for the flesh of white meat I find myself thinking more and more of her each day…Lord help me. I have heard of an uprising of a sort with these southern folks, they actually want slaves to keep workn and stay the way it is, can you belive that. I have decide to escape to the north and fight with them to get rid of this horrible life for all of our kind, wish me luck, ill write again once this war is over and we can all live in peace again.
Well I best be getn back to work now … I really do miss you cuzn, and some day I hope to write back to you not as a slave but as a free man.




Love, Adome mo…..oh I mean Damond